Just Waiting
by Tyranae
Summary: Touya has defeated N and Ghetsis. Ghetsis has escaped. Team Plasma has scattered, its members starting new lives. N, on the other hand, can't let go of his past and the wound on his soul, and he has fled. So what is there for TOuya to do? Nothing but wait


**Hello everyone, MidnightDragon123 here. I've decided to try to write yaoi. I've never written yaoi before, I've never done a story with Touya/Hilbert, and I rarely use first person perspective, but I still decided to give it a shot. I hope you enjoy my new story. **

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE POKEMON ANIME, FRANCHISE, MANGAS, OR MOVIES. I MERELY OWN THIS STORY BELOW THAT I HAVE WRITTEN.**

**I've written this story using Hilbert's Japanese name because, to be totally honest, I just don't think Hilbert is a very fitting name for him and I just can't take him seriously when I call him Hilbert in my stories. (No offense to people named Hilbert) So, for those who don't know: Hilbert's Japanese name is Touya, and I will be calling him Touya in my stories. **

**Another thing to note. In the beginning of this story, both N and Touya are 14 years old, because I don't think a complicated love relationship is very fitting for 10 year olds... **

**Enjoy the story!**

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><p>A wispy, white speck in the distance, growing fainter as its distance from the wrecked golden castle grew larger and larger. How many feet away had he gone? How many meters away now? How many miles away would he travel from this wreckage of his old life? How many miles would he travel, away from me?<p>

If you hadn't known what had happened before, you wouldn't even be able to tell that there was a boy riding that wispy speck.

I can't help but stare at it now. It looks almost like a cloud. Made out of nothing but water vapor, its edges blurred, so much that it looks almost like a smear on a canvas or as if it is slowly fading from the sky.

But isn't he fading?

A treacherous voice in my mind whispers it. He's fading from my life, like he never existed. A fragile, fraying cloud blown in by the rough winds that had sent him back and forth his entire life, just to end up in my life, before being chased away again by another rough wind that threatened to unravel his very being.

_N. _

I sit on one of the large pieces of polished marble, tracing my fingers in its fluted grooves absentmindedly before I blinked, confused, as I wondered how the pillar had come to be like this, lying on the navy blue-carpeted floor. I think for a moment, still blinking furiously, running over the previous events that I had somehow forgotten as I'd watched the white speck fade away. It had probably been one of the supports, yes, it had. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, my fingers still brushing against the cold marble, picturing that scene as Reshiram plunged through the castle wall, summoning the memory that threatened to fade away just like the person who had made it. I could see it now. Reshiram's battering wings causing faint veins to appear in the marble, cracks, before it broke. The wreckage, the marble supports collapsing, the wall shattering into pieces. The green-haired boy with lost gray eyes who had trembled, limbs shaking, as he saw his father discard him, calling him flawed, imperfect, like an artist would cast off a sketch that had not turned out quite right. The green-haired boy who had put on a brave face and a smile, told me some silly, hollow words of how I should "go out and make my ideal world" before he'd flew off on Reshiram. But how could I have believed that when I'd seen those eyes? Those dead, gray-blue eyes.

_Go out and make your ideal world!_

The words sound like some silly, clichéd video game for little kids. The ones with the sparkling fairies who have wands that can make any wish come true. The ones in which there's no blood, there are no betrayals, and the bad guys are some childish doodles of fat men with downward-slanting eyebrows to make them look mad while they make some stupid attempts to steal the fairy's magic pixie dust or cook up half-baked schemes to bring darkness to the fairyland.

The childish games in which there was always a happy ending, guaranteed.

"Touya," I hear a deep voice rumble, a firm, calloused hand gripping my shoulder. Alder.

"The reporters are here," I hear him say and I feel myself nodding my head dumbly.

Then, I hear a flurry of eager footsteps, and before I know it, a microphone is being stuffed beneath my nose.

"Mr. Touya! Please! Tell us, how did it feel to become champion!"

Another microphone was added to the black one already beneath my nose.

"How did it feel to finally conquer the evil Team Plasma and their leader, the so-called N."

Yet a third one was shoved in my face, so close that it practically brushed against my lips.

I glance up just to see a camera go off in front of my face, a crowd of people in front of me, all dressed up in suits and ties, holding out microphones and cameras.

Through the small gap in the mass of people in front of me, I can see yet another reporter, a rather good-looking woman with a cheery smile formed on her red-painted lips and her blonde locks piled on her head in a bun, a few strands on either side of her head expertly left down, shimmering earrings catching the sunlight and casting it this way and that on the floor. She shifts slightly, walking towards the center of the room, mincing about in her red high-heels, careful to avoid the pieces of rubble.

"Hey everyone! This is the Unova News!" I hear her say in a bubbly voice, flashing white teeth towards the camera.

With her right hand still clutching the microphone, she forms a peace sign with her left hand, tilting her head slightly and winking, a blue-painted eyelid going up and down as she did so.

"We're live in Team Plasma's Castle where, once and for all, the evil N and his followers have been stopped."

They've got it wrong. N was never evil. His heart was always good. He was just a small, innocent kid who got lost in this stupid, horrible world.

I grab one of the microphones, standing, and the crowd clamors around me, delighted to get a word from me, their so-called hero.

"N wasn't evil!" I say into it, the microphone captures the words, capturing my every ragged breath.

"N was never evil!" I shout into it, my hands clutching the microphone tightly, almost as tightly as I wished I had held N's hand when he was about to leave.

The reporter pivots on her red high-heels now, looks at me curiously, and suddenly that sunny smile comes back.

"Unova has such a noble hero!" she announces into the microphone, walking in my direction, her cameramen aiding her as she pushed her way to the center of the crowd, where I now stood.

"This boy, a mere 14 years old, is the one who defeated the ruthless N and the rest of Team Plasma! Zekrom, the ancient legendary Pokemon, recognized Touya's ideals to be the true side, the good side, and Touya succeeded in partnering up with Zekrom as they fought against N's twisted lies of how releasing Pokemon was for the best. It was a fierce and angry brawl between the two opponents, but young Touya here triumphed! And now, as he stands here, he is even good enough to defend his opponent. Such a gracious, polite young man! And now, let's meet Unova's Black Hero and champion!"

The woman signals towards the cameramen and they immediately turn their cameras towards me.

She lifts the microphone to her mouth once more, saying in her happy reporter voice, "Touya, you've done everything a Pokemon trainer longs to do. You've won all 8 gym badges, you've beaten the Elite Four, and you've become the Unova Champion. Besides that, you've also captured the legendary Pokemon Zekrom and you've become Unova region's Black Hero. Then, there's all of the things you've done for society! You've rescued Unova from disaster, stopped Team Plasma numerous times…the list just goes on and on! So we've got to ask, Touya. You've achieved your dreams, so what are you planning on doing now?"

"Waiting."

The word slips unbidden from my mouth.

"Waiting? Could you be more specific, Touya?"

I managed to catch her, and myself, by surprise. I allow myself a private smile. At least there was one thing I said she couldn't twist or mangle.

I think for a moment, recalling an old memory of my first Ferris Wheel ride in Nimbasa City, the one in which N had told me he was the king of Team Plasma.

He'd spent the first part of the Ferris wheel ride talking at his usual fast pace, and only once had he stopped, when he had made a slight slip-up in his speech.

"My father is very cruel-" he'd said, before he'd corrected himself, an unreadable look in his eyes, "kind to me. I meant kind. It was just a mistake."

There had been an uncomfortable tension after that, before he'd taken the conversation (which had consisted of his rapid talk while I nodded patiently and listened) to a whole different direction. Then, as I had listened to him go on about philosophy, he'd suddenly stopped once more, his barrage of words coming to a halt. The silence had remained for what felt like ages, nothing but the creak of the Ferris Wheel's old mechanics as it eased its way downward. Then, he'd opened his mouth once more to speak.

And in a solemn, almost-pleading voice, he'd said in an uncharacteristically slow pace, "You know, some people say that when you make a mistake when you talk, you say what you really want to say."

The Ferris Wheel had clacked then, signifying the end of the ride, and N had stepped out to announce to the world his position as king of Team Plasma.

"Touya! Hello?"

I blinked owlishly, noticing that the blonde-haired reporter had her faced shoved next to mine now, large, gray eyes filled with such exaggerated, false concern, she could have been an actress. After all, how could she be concerned when she didn't know what was paining me?

"Mr. Touya, you were going to clarify what you meant by 'waiting'?" she said in a authoritative, sweet voice.

I stared her straight-on now, feeling confident in my decision.

I took one of the microphones from what seemed like a field of microphones before me. I could practically feel them coming closer, the reporters' excitement buzzing in the air, crackling like electricity.

"I'll be waiting," I said slowly, savoring each of the words, hearing them bounce off of the remaining, crumbling walls and back, flying into the open sky, perhaps far enough so that the person they were meant for could hear them.

"But, Mr. Touya, that isn't really a clarification of-"

I pressed the microphone I held into her hand, which she stared at in a flustered manner, her façade of cheerfulness rapidly cracking.

"That's all I have to say," I said firmly.

I took one last look at the sky and turned around, clearing myself a path through the reporters, which was surprisingly easy to do.

They parted as I passed, looks of astonishment, confusion, and even slight annoyance written on their faces.

I allowed myself a serene smile in their directions as I opened the once-gilded, golden door, now battered and even burned and chipped in places. I stepped out and I closed the door behind me with a solid thump, the wall the door was located on shuddering, some of the plaster falling off as I walked away, down the many false, golden stairs, their beauty hiding the blood, tears, and sweat of the many miserable, unwilling Pokemon who'd crafted it, the tears and misery of the one who had spent his childhood here and back to the solid, true ground.

N could run for now. He'd run away to some other place, to learn and flourish and try to escape his wound, to erase it and cover it. And when he tired and finally decides to return, I would be there to heal him.

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><p><strong>Well, that's it for today.<strong>

**Please review and submit helpful feedback. I don't mind criticism. **


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